Gothic Nightmare
by mabelreid
Summary: He just wanted three days to decide the next direction of his life, when fate, and a terrible storm bring him into contact with a monster and a maiden. Reid-centric and post season 15.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n thanks in advance to all my readers. This story takes place after the end of the current season._**

It was a black night in early March. Clouds roiled over the starless sky and thunder boomed directly over an ancient Volvo slowly traversing a lonely highway in rural Maryland. A blustering wind drove torrents of rain onto the automobile, the windshield, and the sodden ground. It tossed the trees that closely crowded the two-lane into a frenzied dance of ebony shadows across the winding road.

Dr. Spencer Reid gripped the steering wheel of his car and tried to survey the unlit road by way of headlights, flashes of lightning and wipers that did their best to keep the windshield clean of skeins of rain. He eased his foot up from the accelerator and let the speed of the automobile drop further as the punishing rain abruptly increased to a deluge. The water fluttered in the backwash of his headlights and made vision nearly impossible.

The road curved ahead of him and he took it with extreme caution. His speed hovered at twenty miles per hour. He wondered if he'd find a place to pull off until the storm passed, but he hadn't seen a car, a house, a business, or a wide spot in the road for the last ten miles. In fact, he hadn't seen another human, or animal in two hours. It was as if the storm had somehow washed away every living thing and he was alone in a post-apocalyptic landscape of water and shadow instead of fire and ash.

Another ferocious gust of wind buffeted the car as he followed a curve in the road. He squeezed the wheel until his hands cramped. "Ah," he groaned and forced himself to relax. "A well thought out shortcut," he berated himself. "You should've listened to Garcia and taken the route she planned with GPS."

He shook his head and smiled to himself, but it was a rueful grin because he had his _own_ smartphone and knew how to access maps powered by GPS, but he liked old-fashioned paper maps. He liked the feel of them in his hands and the sound they made when he unfolded one to memorize it. He blinked and realized that he'd reached another bend in the road and slowed again.

"Why," he asked himself. "There's no one out here. You choose it deliberately, remember."

His thoughts of his plan for this long weekend came to a sudden halt as he heard a metallic clang and a loud grinding noise from the front of the car. It was loud enough to be heard over the crash of thunder and the pounding ticks of rain on the windows.

"No," he shouted and realized that he had to pull off the road when the wheel shimmed in his hands and the car nearly went into the opposite lane of traffic. How? Trees crowded so near to the road it was impossible.

"Damn," he shouted when the car swerved again.

He pushed down on the gas pedal and heard the car groan. It shuddered and instead of accelerating ahead, his speed fell to ten miles per hour. The oil light flickered on and then off again and the engine squealed. Another flash of lightning lit the deserted road. His heart began to slam in his throat. He couldn't stop in the middle of the road. He frantically searched along the rural route, as he kept the gas pedal pushed to the floor. The car groaned and his speed hovered at ten miles per hour as he rounded another bend.

When a lightning flash made him blink against its brightness, he saw something to his right and about a hundred feet ahead. It was a second road, a dirt road, but a place to get off the main highway.

"Yes," he shouted and blessed his luck.

He had to haul the wheel with all his strength to turn, but finally, the car responded, and he bumped into the new road. He blew out a breath just as the front wheels rolled over something that caused a small explosion under the car. The automobile hitched, slid and spun around like a child's top. He stomped on the brake, but it was too late. The passenger side of the car slammed into a tree and stalled. His body jerked sideways, and his head met the glass of the driver's side window with a sickening thud and crack. Pain bloomed like a malignant rose through his left temple and the darkness of the night claimed his vision.

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Two men, one tall and the other stocky, but muscular surveyed the wreck of the car in the backwash of hand-held lamps. Their glow illuminated the interior of the auto and the younger man in the front seat, slumped over the steering wheel. Blood flared scarlet in the golden light and dripped down over his ear and onto his shoulder.

"Is he alive, father," said a female voice behind them.

"I _told_ you to go inside. How many times must I remind you it is _not_ safe for you here."

"But, Father – "

"Do _not_ argue with me, girl," said the tall man through clenched teeth. "Go inside and back to bed."

"Yes, sir."

The tall man watched her go until the shadows of the trees swallowed her whole. He sighed and turned back to the stocky man. "Jarvis, does he still live?"

"He does," said Jarvis. "I can see that he breathes."

"Well, we may be able to turn this to our advantage. We must deal with him carefully. Can you open the door?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then, let us get him out of this cursed rain before we all catch our deaths.

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She watched her father and Jarvis carry the man from the car up the driveway to the house. Her third-floor window let her see the shape of the man, but not his features. Oh, she wanted to see him again, the glimpse of his profile in the low light of Jarvis's flashlight had captivated her. He reminded her of an Angel in a painting that hung on the wall of her father's study.

A chill hit the base of her spine and rippled to the top of her head. This man, this stranger was from the world outside her reach. Her father had always warned her what would happen if she stepped outside the confines of their property. She went back to the window and saw that Jarvis was going back to the road. The trees would hide the stranger's car, but her father would have to deal with the vehicle, soon.

She turned away again as lightning flashed in the sky and the rain thundered down the roof of the house. The floor creaked outside her door, and her heart jumped into her throat. She threw off her shawl, crawled into her bed and yanked the blankets over her head. The door handle twisted with a creak and slowly the door swung open on its hinges. She squeezed her eyes tight and tried to slow her breathing.

"I _know_ you do not sleep, Rachel. I felt your eyes on me from your window. Hear me now and stay away from the stranger. He was brought to us for a purpose and I will _not_ allow you to interfere." She heard the rustle of his clothing as the door shut. She let out a breath and began to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

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Sarah Jarvis, or Mrs. Jarvis as she preferred, carried a covered tray up the stairs to the third floor. Her thin hands, thin body and thin face contrasted with the bulk of her husband to such a degree, people often stared at them when they went into town for supplies. She wore a striped dress with a long skirt that emphasized her tall frame and a thin build. Her graying brown hair was tied back into a severe knot at the nape of her neck and she wore square-framed glasses over her grey eyes which perched on a long, thin nose. Her flat-heeled, crepe-soled shoes moved silently to the door at the end of the long hallway.

She withdrew a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. It opened without a creak to a small bedroom that had once housed the master's young son. Handwoven carpet in shades of brown and gold covered the flooring and in one corner of the room stood a bed made from mahogany. On the bed lay the young man from the crashed automobile. She narrowed her eyes as she put down the tray on a small table near the bed. The young man had a mild concussion and a cut, but she'd expertly dealt with both.

"It is time you wake," she said to the young man and took a step toward the bed.

As if he heard her, the young man opened his eyes and groaned. He turned over and jerked when he saw her standing over him. "Who are you?" he croaked.

His long, untidy hair, a day's growth of beard and the white bandage on his left temple obscured much of his face. He reached up and touched his forehead and winced. "What happened to me? What's going on? How did I get here?"

"You have asked the same questions each time I have been in this room. I am beginning to think your head trauma is worse than I initially thought."

"I don't understand."

"You were in an automobile accident. You were driving too fast like _most_ young people. You have a slight concussion and a cut. I took care of it and I made sure to wake you every two hours overnight. You will have a headache, but you will survive."

"I – I thought that was a dream."

"I assure you it was not a dream."

"I'm not in a hospital," persisted the young man. "This looks like a private home."

"That is correct."

"Why?"

Mrs. Jarvis frowned, and her voice took on an icy tone. "As I said you were in a car accident. Did you not hear me, or are you dimwitted as well as concussed?"

"I'm not unintelligent, ma'am, but I want to know _where_ I am and why I'm not under medical care."

She didn't like the belligerence in his voice, but then he was from the outside world, and well knew she the kind of men raised in the latter half of the last century. His mother hadn't taught him manners, obviously.

"Did I not tell you that you had medical care? I was once a nurse and a good one at that. You will be fine as long as you do as I say."

"Where's my phone?" The young man sat up, groaned and put both hands to his head. "I'd like to call a friend."

"Your phone was destroyed in the crash, along with your car."

"I don't remember any of that."

The alarm in his eyes tried to worm sympathy into her heart, but she shut out the emotion. Emotions were useless when one had to do what was necessary and right. "I have brought you food and some tea. Please eat slowly." She turned to walk away.

"Stop." The young man commanded in a tone that sent chills down her spine, despite her assertion to remain emotionless.

She turned with a stony expression firmly in place. The young man met her eyes forth-rightly and there was something in them that made an unfamiliar sensation well up in her stomach, It was fear and she hated feeling afraid of anything or anyone."

"I _want_ my belongings, and a phone to call for my friends. Please provide them, now."

"We have no phone. Such distractions are unnecessary in Cedarwood. My master is involved in important scientific work."

"Then take me to the nearest town and I will find my own way home."

"The nearest town is twenty miles away. My husband, Mr. Jarvis has already made the trip and will not be back for some hours."

She saw defeat enter the young man's eyes and she rejoiced. Perhaps now, he'd eat, stay quiet and her day would remain on schedule.

"Where are my belongings?" He asked as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed.

"I have no _time_ to search them out," Mrs. Jarvis said dismissively. "Mr. Jarvis took everything from your car. You may ask him when he returns."

She turned, left the room and locked the door behind her. She ignored his voice behind the door asking why he was locked in. It was for his safety; he would soon see and understand.

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Rachel carefully opened the door to her bedchamber and peeked out into the third-floor hallway. It appeared empty, but she couldn't be sure. Father always warned her about leaving her room without Mrs. Jarvis to watch over her. Mrs. Jarvis was a tyrant, Rachel thought, then shook her head. Father would punish her for thinking such thoughts about a loyal servant.

After several minutes of watching the stair and hallway, she slipped out and hurried down the carpeted hall to a room at the other end of the huge house. She hesitated at the familiar door and thought about going back to her lonely room.

"No," she said quietly. "This is why you came here. You _need _to see the stranger."

She drew in a breath and entered the room. It was a huge room done in shades of silver and blue. It had been her mother's room. Mrs. Jarvis kept it in perfect order per the instructions ordered by Rachel's father. Rachel came in here often despite her father's warnings. She'd been only five when her mother died, but Rachel remembered everything about the woman that had birthed her. She'd been beautiful, with eyes the color of summertime skies, cream and rose skin, with long wavy blond hair that reached her waist.

One of her mother's dresses lay carefully on the huge four-poster mahogany bed. It was lovely white silk with lace at the throat and around the elbow sleeves. Her mother had worn it on the night of the last party ever held in this house. She'd taken it off, laid it on the bed and then – Rachel didn't know. Her father wouldn't tell her. He said it was her fault her mother had died. How? She shook her head and looked to her right where her mother's dressing table resided. Her eyes swept over the contents of the table, perfume, makeup, brushes and a golden wedding band father had refused to bury with her.

To her left was a bookcase and a window, that let in grey light from outside. It still rained, but the storm was passing, she could feel it in her bones. She went to the bookcase, felt for a lever at the back and pulled. The bookcase swung open and she entered the space behind. She didn't know which room held the stranger, but she would find it.

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Spencer lay on the bed looking up at the canopy over his head. He could barely see the room he was in because heavy curtains covered the windows but for a small gap that let in the stony grey light. He could hear the tapping of rain on the glass and feel the chill in the air. He'd tried to find a light, but there were only candles and no matches. He looked at the tray and the cooling food it held. His stomach grumbled, but he wanted out of the room. Food could wait until he was back in his apartment and safe.

He had summoned the strength to rise and explore the room despite the throbbing pain in his skull. After walking the circumference of the room several times, and looking for a way out, he'd lost his reserves of strength and couldn't think of anything but more sleep.

A noise brought him back to reality. It was a small noise, but in the relative silence of the huge house, it rang out like a church bell. He turned his head in the direction of the small bathroom he'd found in his search and saw a figure standing still in the grey light of the morning or was it now afternoon.

"Who are you?" He demanded in a hoarse voice. "Let me go, now."

"I cannot," said a voice, but it was unlike any voice he'd ever heard. It had a musical quality that lifted the hair on his head. "I do not have a key."

"Then the door is unlocked," Spencer said in delight and began to get out of bed.

"No, it is fastened tight."

"How did you get in here?"

The figure, a woman judging from her voice, stepped back from him. "I cannot say."

"Come into the light," Spencer said, attempting another tact.

"I cannot," repeated the voice. "My father warned me to stay away from this room, but I was curious. I have never seen a man like you."

"Like me," Spencer inquired. "What do you mean?"

"I have said too much. I must go."

"No," Spencer called to her as she turned away from him. "Please, tell me where I am. I need my belongings. My friends will be looking for me."

"No one comes here," said the woman. "We are alone. _ I_ am alone."

"Wait," Spencer begged. "Please find my shoes. I need to leave."

The figure stepped toward him and as she did sunlight suddenly burst through the clouds and streamed into the room between the gap in the curtains. It fell over the woman and showed her clearly. She wore a long, white dress, white slippers on her feet, and a white veil over all her face, except her eyes, which were as blue as a clear mountain lake on a golden day. The veil obscured her hair, and when she jerked out of the light and back into the shadows, he noticed her tiny graceful hands. She was about five-three and very slim.

"I must go – the sunlight," she turned away at the same time a lock sounded in the door.

Reid turned to see a tall man enter the room with his messenger bag, and his badge and gun. The man appeared to stand about six foot five, he had greying brown hair, a short, neat beard and piercing blue eyes like a predator bird. He reminded Reid of the actor Vincent Price, but when the man spoke his voice shattered the illusion that it might be a dream hijacked by the British thespian.

"I see you are awake," he said in a deep, booming voice. "Good, we have much to discuss, Agent Reid."

Mrs. Jarvis entered the room and approached him with a syringe in her hand. She reached for him and he bolted around her to the door.

The tall man dropped Spencer's bag and gun on the floor. He grabbed him with both hands. They were like vice grips. "I briefly considered letting you go after you served your purpose, but my faithful servant Jarvis found these in your car. We cannot let you go, now."

"No!" Spencer shouted and utter panic at Mrs. Jarvis readying the needle made him buck and jerk wildly in the grip of the man.

"Father, please do not hurt –"

"I will deal with you later, daughter. Go back to your room. Now!"

"Leave her alone," Spencer gasped as he tried to escape the iron grip of this obvious madman.

"Do not worry about my daughter. Soon, this will all be but a dream, young man."

"NO!" Spencer shouted. "I won't let you give me drugs.

"Hold him," commanded, Mrs. Jarvis.

"Be still," said the tall man and his grip tightened until Spencer cried out.

Mrs. Jarvis inserted the needle into his arm and a minute later, blackness claimed him again.


	3. Chapter 3

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Spencer's head spun as though he'd spent too long on a carnival ride like the Whip or the Tilt-O-Whirl when he opened his eyes. He blinked, rapidly, and panic set in until he realized that he couldn't see because it was night. He swallowed hard and winced. His throat felt like he'd walked miles in a sandstorm. He grimaced, pushed himself to a sitting position and waited until the swooping sensation in his gut subsided.

"Hello," he tried to speak, but it came out as a whisper.

The blackness around him seemed complete, but then, as he waited, he realized that silver light seeped into this room – wherever he was – and gave a tiny bit of illumination. He felt around him, and his hand brushed something. It felt like something solid, but slim and long. Was it light? No. His brain seemed to kick into gear, and he remembered that he was in a strange home and – he shuddered and fought off a new round of panic. A man, a very tall man had drugged him with the help of some woman claiming to be a former nurse. He put his hand to his head and nearly screamed when pain flared under his questing fingertips.

He reached for the object to his right and lifted it. It felt like glass, he let both hands explore it as his eyes continued to adjust to the gloom around him. Yes, it had the shape of a drinking glass. He tilted it back and forth and felt liquid sloshing inside. He lifted it and drank down several gulps of cool water. It was like ambrosia on his throat. He wanted more but had no idea where to find a tap. Was he in the same room? Had they moved him?

"Hello," he said, and this time his hydrated throat cooperated, and he could croak out his question.

"You are awake," said a voice near him. A familiar voice.

"Who are you?"

The voice didn't return and for a moment, he thought he imagined it. Then he heard a scratch and then a flare of light as a match was lit at his left. He squinted as a golden light touched a long, white candle in a tall taper made of silver. Yes, he was in the same room, but someone stood in the shadows with him.

"Please, come into the light?"

The figure hesitated and then, stepped cautiously into view. He drew in a breath because it was the same young woman in white who'd tried to stop a man, she'd called her father, from drugging him. Moreover, he could see her face, as she no longer wore a veil. It was oval-shaped, with full lips and skin as pale as moonlight. Her delicate eyebrows framed dark blue eyes, and her nose was perfectly straight and just a bit upturned at the end. She was so beautiful, he forgot to breathe for several seconds. When he remembered to breathe, he realized that his heart thumped to see her. He'd thought the man had somehow punished her for defying him.

"You're alright. I thought that man hurt you."

"I am well. It is you that is in danger here. You must leave."

"I can't," he said and turned to slid off the bed and stand. He swayed on his feet and nearly fell. "My car is wrecked. The other woman said my phone was destroyed."

"Mrs. Jarvis is a liar," said Rachel. "She will tell you anything she thinks will keep you under control."

"Why? What does your father want with me? I'm a Federal Agent. People will be looking for me."

"I know," said Rachel. "That is why you must find a way to leave this place. I can show you how to get out of the house without detection, but Mr. Jarvis has the keys to our automobile on a corkboard in his workshop behind the house."

"Tell me your name," Spencer asked as the dizziness finally began to subside.

"My name is Rachel."

"My name is Spencer."

"I know. I saw your badge. You are a doctor?"

"No, not a medical doctor," Reid explained. "I have three Ph.D.'s."

Rachel studied him for a long minute. "I see. Did you travel far to go to university?"

The fact that she accepted his obvious genius without comment piqued his interest. "I was born in Las Vegas."

"Nevada," said Rachel and her eyes lit up. She smiled for the first time and she made him think of an angel in an old painting.

"Yes."

"Tell me about it."

"I _need_ to get out of here," he reminded her.

"Oh, yes, I am sorry, Spencer. Here, I found your shoes."

She gestured to a chair where lay not only his shoes, his bag, his coat and his credentials. "I apologize that I could not locate your weapon. Father must have hidden it away."

"It's okay," Reid said, despite his misgivings. "_Why_ does your father want to keep me here?"

Terror entered Rachel's expression and her eyes filled with tears. "I – I cannot speak of it. We must go," she said, urgently. "_Please_ make haste."

"You have an unusual way of speaking," Reid said.

"Do I?"

"Yes," he said as he put on his shoes and donned his jacket. "You converse like someone from long ago."

"My father taught my brother and me proper English."

Something in her tone and manner made Spencer think she learned her lessons under an iron fist and despite her manner now, he was sure she'd endured some form of punishment for her last visit, and yet she still came to help him.

"How do we leave? The door is locked."

"Do not worry. There is a hidden passageway behind the bookcase."

He watched her go to the bookcase and with a hidden lever, he couldn't see, made it swing forward on silent hinges. "Awesome," he said without thinking.

Rachel stared at him. "You have never seen a hidden passageway?"

"No."

"That is – strange," she said and led him inside. "Does not everyone have them in their homes?"

"No."

"Strange," she said again. "I have read many books and thought it normal."

Reid wondered what kind of reading matter she'd been exposed to but then forgot about his curiosity because the passageway was extremely dark. He stood waiting for Rachel to move forward, but she didn't until she'd lighted a candle and motioned him to follow her. "We must go forward to the end of the passage and then down three flights of stairs. This way leads to the back of the house. Everyone sleeps, so we are perfectly safe to exit and find the keys to the automobile."

He followed her down the passageway and as he walked, he felt a bit disappointed. Secret passageways in movies and books were described as festooned with cobwebs and full of rats or spiders. This passageway was built from the same wood as the house, but it didn't have cobwebs and he didn't see any rodents running from them. As for spiders, and other insects, if they were there, they were all sleeping or hiding. He supposed he should feel relief instead of disappointment. Still, it was a bit spooky because the light from Rachel's candle threw shadows on the narrow walls of the walkway that swayed and stretched like living beings as they walked.

Soon, they reached the narrow flight of stairs that wound down in a tight spiral. He continued to follow Rachel and this time, he kept his eyes on his feet so that he didn't trip and fall into her. Rachel proceeded with the confidence of someone who'd traversed this path thousands of times. In fact, she descended so quickly, he had to move fast to keep up with her and stay in the circle of golden light thrown by the candle in her right hand. He held tight to the railing and finally, they reached the first floor. Rachel led him down another short pathway to a door and when she opened it, he found himself outside.

It was dark and for the first time in years, he saw stars over his head, like a million twinkling diamonds. The moon stood out full and threw enough light for him to see the forest around him, the huge house behind him and a small building directly in front of him.

"What is wrong," Rachel asked. "We must hurry."

"I'm sorry, it's been years since I've seen the stars."

"Why?"

He almost laughed at the perplexed look in her eyes. "Because I live in the city and there's too much light pollution."

"Light pollution? What is this?"

"It means that the light from houses, buildings, and streetlights block out the stars even on clear nights."

"You live in a very odd world. I could not live without stars and studying the constellations."

"It's normal for me."

"I live _only_ in the night." Rachel said, then she shook her head. "Come, we must go."

"What do you mean?" Spencer inquired as she led him to the building behind the house.

"It is nothing. I spoke without thinking?"

She opened a door to a small office crowded with a wooden desk, a chair and, filing cabinets. Several sets of keys hung on a corkboard nailed to the far wall. Spencer looked around for a phone but saw none. He hissed out a frustrated breath. "Why don't you have a phone?"

"Father said there is no need for such distractions."

"What if there is an emergency?" Spencer almost laughed at the irony of his words. If ever there was an emergency, now was the time.

"Father is a skilled doctor. He can treat my condition without assistance."

Rachel went to the corkboard and removed a set of two keys. "Here. You must take them and go. I cannot drive."

"Why? Tell what is going on, Rachel. You hide from the light. You say your world is the night and stars and now you want to stay here with an unstable man who punishes you for every small infraction. You're an adult, Rachel. Come with me. I have friends that can help."

"No! You do not understand. I have a severe allergy to sunlight. My father diagnosed it when I was five. If I go into the light, I will die."

"There is no such disease, Rachel. Your father is lying to you to control you."

"It is _you_ who lie. I know it is called Xeroderma Pigmentosa and it is very dangerous."

"You can't develop it," Spencer countered. "You're born with it. If your father told you that you have this condition, he's lies."

"No."

"Yes!" Spencer insisted and reached for her arm. "Come with me."

"No, do not touch me. Father said men only seek carnal knowledge of women. I will not let you take advantage of me."

Spencer dropped his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I will go. Please, think about what I said. I will come back here with my friends and make your father let you go. He must answer for kidnapping a Federal agent."

"No." Rachel began to cry, and his heart ached to see her blue eyes filled with tears. "I will _not_ leave my father. My mother died and my brother is gone, too. Father is my only family. Do you not understand?"

He thought of his mother and nodded his head. "Yes. I understand."

"Please go and think no more of me. Go quickly before Mrs. Jarvis realizes I am not in bed. She checks on me many times a night."

"Alright. Thank you, Rachel. I promise I'll come back."

"No," said a voice and Reid whirled to see the tall man and the man call Jarvis step through the door. "You will not leave this place.

Jarvis strode forward and Reid saw the object in his hand too late to dodge out of the way. A crackling sound reached his ears seconds before he was hit with the jolt of a powerful stun gun to his shoulder. He crashed to the floor and the last thing he saw was Rachel standing over him. She screamed as his sight went black and once again, he was lost to the unconscious world.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

_**A/n thank you to all who have read, reviewed, followed or favorited this story. I appreciate all my loyal readers and all feedback. Please enjoy the next chapter.**_

"Take him away," said the tall man to Jarvis. "You know what to do."

"Yes sir," Jarvis inclined his head and bent to the unconscious form of Dr. Spencer Reid.

"Father, please." Rachel pleaded. "Do _not_ do this."

The tall man rounded on his daughter and she shrank back from him. "You will be _silent_, daughter. You above all else understand the need for this man. He will bring back what was lost."

"You do not know if that is so." Rachel dared to argue. "How many _times_ must you try? How many _lives_ must you take?"

"To right a terrible wrong, I will go to Hell and _spit_ in the face of the Devil himself, if I must. Do you _understand_?"

His hand flashed out and slapped her face so hard, she wailed and dropped to her knees on the floor. "You see what you make me do," he stood over her and stared down at her sobbing form. "Losing your temper is indicative of a lack of self-control. I do not wish to hurt you, but you leave me _no _choice."

The tall man turned and strode out the door. It slammed shut and Rachel heard a key twist and the bolt shoot home. She put a hand to her face and winced as she cried. Why did he hate her so and why did he give all his love to the memory of her dead brother? It wasn't fair. Rage welled up in her chest and instead of trying to quell the emotion, she let it coalesce into her like the gathering of storm clouds on the horizon.

She climbed to her feet and began to search the corkboard for another key to the door. Jarvis had duplicates of every key, but the hook labeled "Office," was empty. She beat her hands on her breast and shrieked. "Let me out of here."

Her voice filled the room but did not summon even the dour Mrs. Jarvis to her side. Mrs. Jarvis! Oh, she would like to show the ancient hag what it meant to be trapped in an existence too terrible to bear. Rachel turned in circles and tried to find something that would help her escape this prison. When the corkboard filled her gaze, she stopped and stared at the hook meant for their automobile. One of the sets hung from it like an invitation. She snatched them from the hook and turned to the second door that led to the garage. She stopped and stood trembling in place. What if her father had locked the door? She looked down at her white slippers and then turned to see a full moon half-hidden behind black rain clouds. The rain had stopped for the moment, but she could see that the storm might return at any time.

"You can not drive," she said. "You are trapped even if you find some way from here. Where will you go? Surely there is a kind soul willing to help."

Her steps toward the door faltered as she thought of Dr. Reid. He was a kind soul. She could see it in his beautiful eyes. No, he'd lied to her about her disease, her life-long curse.

_Did he? _

A memory suddenly fought to the surface of her mind. A sunny day, fragrant flowers around her in a meadow of green-yellow grass. The sky overhead as blue as her mother's eyes. Laughter filled this place because she played a game of hide-and-seek with her twin brother, Edward, while mother and father watched them from a wool blanket placed carefully on the ground.

"I'm going to find you," Edward had proclaimed while she'd tried to stifle her giggles.

_Sunlight!_

Father had insisted that sunlight was fatal. He said that it was the sun that had killed Edward, but what if that were a lie. She shook her head. Father was strict and demanded unquestioning obedience, but would he tell such a lie?

Her hands trembled as she reached for the door and turned the knob. The door swung open on quiet hinges to reveal a huge garage that had once housed carriages for the family. It was large enough for four cars but held only one automobile. She hesitated, then hurried to the car. She used the key to unlock the door and slid inside. She studied the interior but couldn't figure out how to turn on the engine. Her eyes strayed to the mirror that showed the back seat and rear window of the machine. It was angled in such a way that she noticed something lying on the seat behind her. She shifted around for a better look and her eyes widened in surprise.

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The third time Spencer awoke from unconsciousness he found himself restrained and lying prone on a hard surface he couldn't see. His eyes found only the ceiling over his head and it was painted with symbols he recognized, but couldn't force his brain to understand.

"You are awake, I see," said a voice to his left.

He turned his head and let out a startled cry of utter surprise and fear. The figure standing over him was naked to the waist, with a shendyt made from a brilliant white cloth that covered the lower half of his body to the knees. The man also wore an elaborately carved and painted head of a jackal over his face.

_Annubis! God of the Dead. _

Spencer remembered that the Egyptian God was also the God of lost souls and the helpless. Well, he was _lost_ and _helpless._ He stared at the apparition above him and tried to think of something to say, but the right words wouldn't surface. Maybe he'd suffered more than a concussion and with the electrical charge from the taser – no, it wasn't a physical injury, but a psychological one. He was tired of talking psychos done from the brink. It didn't matter what he said because this man was on a mission and would not be deterred.

"Are we ready?" said the man to someone Spencer couldn't see.

"Yes," answered a familiar voice. It was Jarvis. Another figure came into view and it was Mrs. Jarvis, and this time she wore a black robe and hood. She stared down at him with eyes that sparked something in his soul.

"You don't agree with this," he croaked out. "You think it's all nonsense, but you help your master out of fear."

"Be silent," she said, but there was a tiny crack in her determined façade.

"I will _not_ be silent. You kidnapped me and hold me against my will. I can see from your clothing that you mean me harm. Why else dress as the God Annubis," he directed at the tall figure to his left.

He realized that the decorations over his head with hieroglyphics. Unfortunately, he'd never found the time to learn to read more than a few words of the language. Still, he'd studied Greek, Roman, and Egyptian Mythology.

"What will Annubis say when he weighs your heart?" Reid asked the tall man. "Will your soul be _destroyed_ and your heart _devoured_ by Ammit for the murders you've committed."

"Do not pretend to use the Great God Annubis against me," said the tall man. "I will _not_ be dissuaded by a young whelp like you. You _will_ be the final sacrifice. Behold," the figure swept his arm to the right.

Spencer turned his head and saw a body lying on a slab of marble to his right and near a burning torch that slashed the darkness with its wavering light. The golden light revealed that the body was that of a child and it was wrapped in cloth that had once been white but was now stained and dark. Something sat on the chest of the corpse, something made from a blue stone with gold decoration. Several jars with the heads of Jackals, stood outlining the small body.

"My dear son, Edward." Said the tall man and Spencer heard tears in his voice.

"You can't bring him back," Spencer said. "Why are you attempting to drag him back from the Field of Reeds? You'll take my life for _nothing_ and your son will _still_ be dead.

"My son is trapped in the Underworld by the demons that inhabit it. I must save him. The sacred scarab will lead him back to me." The tall man indicated the object on the boy's chest. "I studied the ancients and their embalming techniques. I have created canopic jars for his vital organs as you can see. _Al_l is in readiness."

"Edward wouldn't want this," Spencer said as the tall man began to chant in an ancient language unknown to the genius.

The tall man took a dagger from a third figure that joined Mrs. Javis and the tall man in a triangle around him. The blade shined in the light like a beacon of destruction. The highly polished hilt was decorated with rubies and sapphires. Spencer could see that it had been honed razor-sharp and fear slammed into his gut like a fist. He began to twist and struggle against the bonds that held him down, but he couldn't make them loosen.

"Please," he screamed. "I am a stranger to you. This sacrifice will _not _work."

The tall man, Jarvis and Mrs. Jarvis stood around him and chanted in ever-increasing tones. Spencer understood only, the intermittent calling of Annubis. Incense and other herbs danced together in a pungent miasma that made him choke and cough. The room seemed to grow colder around him and the light wavered as his eyelids began to blink rapidly against its brightness.

_No! You will not go into shock!_

He bit down hard on his tongue and the bright pain yanked him back to stark reality. The tall man stood above him and held the dagger high in both arms.

"Please, don't do this. I'm an FBI agent and my team _will_ come looking for me."

The tall man continued to chant as though he didn't hear Spencer. The dagger gleamed like a diamond in the light and Spencer found he couldn't pull his eyes away from it. It fascinated him as a flame drew in moths to its destructive light. Perhaps it was better this way. His mother had once again withdrawn back into the fog of her disease, never to reappear. JJ had said she loved him, but she was completely committed to Will and her family. Why hadn't she said something years ago was a mantra he couldn't get out of his head. He had _nothing_ left.

The chanting stopped and the tall man said in English. "Oh Great God Annubis, accept this sacrifice and free the soul of my beloved son Edward from the Underworld."

"No," Spencer said despite his despair at living.

The knife began to descend and the light flashed off the surface into his eyes. He blinked and tried to jerk away from its trajectory to his heart, but the hard surface left no escape. He squeezed his eyes shut and in the half-second left to him he cursed his inability to meet death with open eyes. An unexpected sound, the crack of a gunshot yanked his eyes open just in time to see the tall man crash to the floor with a hole in his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: see my profile. **_

_**A/n here's the last chapter. Thank you again for all of your support. Well, folks this is it, the last two episodes in two days. I can't believe it. **_

The knife clattered to the stones and slid away into the shadows. Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis flew apart and threw their hands into the air in a manner that might've been comical if not for the situation. Spencer's head turned to the left so fast, a neck muscle cramped and he groaned. Had the team found him? How?

A figure stepped out of the shadows, but it wasn't a member of his team. It was Rachel and she held his gun in her hand. "Rachel," he gasped. "How?"

The gun shook in her hand as she advanced to him out of the darkness. Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis shrank back from her as though she were a ghost. "I killed him," Rachel whispered. "What have I done?"

"You did what was necessary and I thank you," Spencer said as he tried to wriggle free of his restraints.

"No." Rachel shook her head as she looked down at the dead man on the stone floor. "I – what have I done," she repeated and dropped down next to her father. "I am so sorry, Father. I love you."

Spencer watched with sorrow and pity in his eyes as Rachel tried to embrace her father. Scarlet blood stained her white clothing like an accusation and his stomach lurched when she pulled back and sat on her knees, sobbing. "It's not your fault," Spencer said. "Please Rachel, untie me and we'll leave this place, together."

"Leave," she sobbed. "I can not leave this place. I have nowhere to go."

She raised the gun and pointed it at her head. "I killed my father. I am damned."

"No," Spencer shouted. "You saved my life, Rachel. He was going to kill me."

"I committed murder," Rachel gasped. "I must pay for my crime."

"Rachel, please don't –"

She pulled the trigger and Reid screamed in anguish as she fell to the floor in a bloody heap. He turned his head away and as tears rolled down his face, the room around him wavered and disappeared. He blinked, then saw a white ceiling overhead. He sat up gasping for air as a man after a marathon run. His heart fluttered so fast, he felt ready to faint dead away.

"Hey," said a voice to his right. "Take it easy, Spencer."

_Emily? _

He turned to see one of his closest friends sitting on a chair and studying him closely. "Emily? Where? What? I don't understand." He looked down and saw that he was in a hospital bed.

"You were in a serious car accident on the I-64. It was a twelve car pile-up. You have a severe concussion and some bruises, and airbag burns to your head, but you'll be okay."

Reid reached up and winced at the burn on his face. "I don't remember."

"I'm not surprised. You've been in an out of it for twenty-four hours."

Finally, other stimuli reached him. He heard the heart monitor next to his bed beeping, and he felt the blood pressure cuff around his right arm and he smelled the antiseptic that always stained the air in any hospital.

"I –" He started to say, then subsided.

"That must've been quite a dream you had."

"A dream? It was so real. I thought that I was on a rural highway and my car broke down, and I was in a crash and then there was a tall man –"

"I want to hear all about it, but it looks like your doctor is back."

Spencer jerked in surprise when the tall man from his dreams entered the room with a clipboard in his hand. His heart monitor beeped frantically as his heart rate climbed drastically.

"Hey," Emily took one of his hands. "Calm down, Spencer. This is Dr. Francis. He's been looking after you since you were brought in."

"Hello, good to see you're awake."

"Ah, hello," Spencer greeted after looking over at Emily for support.

"You need me to leave," Emily asked.

"No," said Dr. Francis and Spencer at the same time.

"Please don't go," Spencer pleaded. "She can stay, right?"

"Of course."

A few minutes later, Spencer was pronounced well enough to leave the hospital, but that he shouldn't be alone. "Garcia's at your place with curry from The Star of India."

Spencer's eyebrows went up. "I _am_ hungry," he admitted.

"Go easy," said Dr. Francis. "If the curry's too spicy save it for another day."

"I will," Spencer promised.

The doctor left and Emily said. "I should go, too."

"Why?"

Emily smirked at him. "You need to get dressed and I doubt you want me in here."

"Right," Spencer said. "Um, come back in ten minutes."

"Sure. Here's a change of clothes, Luke picked up for you."

Emily indicated the bag on the chair. "The ladies decided you didn't need us going through your clothing."

"Thanks for that," Spencer said. "I'll be ready in a minute."

Spencer was tying his tie when a tap came at the door. "Come in, Emily."

It wasn't Emily that entered the room, it was – he gaped in surprise. It was Rachel from his dreams. She wore a hospital gown, a blue robe, had a dressing on her head, mostly covering her blond hair, but he recognized the eyes and the face. She sat in a wheelchair pushed by Mrs. Jarvis. What? Mrs. Jarvis. Here?

"I'm sorry to intrude, but we're neighbors and I wanted to check on you," said Rachel – if that was her name – Spencer didn't know.

"I'm sorry, do we know each other."

The woman in the wheelchair frowned. "You don't remember me."

"I don't," he said, but he wanted to remember her.

"We met at Club Spiral in Richmond. We danced and –"

A fog seemed to lift off his brain. "Yes. I remember," Spencer said and made her smile. "You're Rachel."

"Yes," she said. "You're Spencer."

"I am."

"Are you okay," she asked as Emily entered the room behind the woman who looked exactly like Mrs. Jarvis but must be Rachel's nurse. The woman glowered at all of them but they roundly ignored her.

"I'm fine. What happened to you?"

"We were in separate cars, but we left together and were on the Interstate at the same time. I guess we were going in the same direction. There was a third car that lost control in the rainstorm and she hit you. That's all I remember."

"You need your rest," said the nurse.

"I know," said Rachel and rolled her eyes. Spencer almost laughed.

"I remember that I gave you my number," he said. "Call me when you're well."

"I'll call you tomorrow whether I'm here or not," Rachel said resolutely and made Emily grin.

"What are you laughing at?"

Emily turned to him after Rachel left the room. "I'm not laughing. I'm glad you met someone that seems nice."

"She is," Spencer said and thought about the dances and the conversation they'd shared at the club. "I can't believe I almost forgot her.

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah. I hate hospitals."

"I don't blame you. You spend enough time in them."

"That's not funny," Spencer complained.

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Three days later, Spencer was attempting to read his second book of the day when his phone rang. "Hello."

"Hi," said a familiar voice. "How's your head."

"It's fine. The headache is gone and the bruising is nearly faded away. How are you?"

"I'm doing well enough to go home today."

"That's wonderful, Rachel."

"So, I wondered if you'd like to go out and grab a coffee in a couple of days."

"I'd love to. I'll call you later."

"Sounds good."

He put his phone on the coffee table and reached for his book. He attempted to read but kept going back to the vivid dream he'd had in the hospital. It was so real, he truly thought he was experiencing the entire story in some alternate universe. It was strange, but not surprising that his brain cast real people from his life in the dream, including an orderly from the hospital in the role of Jarvis.

He decided it was too much to try and figure out the reason for the dream and what it meant. Rachel was the most important element and she was real. He looked at his phone again and thought that maybe he'd finally met someone who'd understand him and who'd care about him despite his flaws.

_**THE END**_


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